The Patriarch
by Fire Kunai
Summary: *Drabble Request for AC community on Tumblr* A nervous John Pitcairn asks permission from Commander Davenport to court his daughter, Eleanor Mallow.


**Another drabble request from my tumbler RP account. I ship Pitcairn/Mallow so hard so this was a lot of fun.**

**"I notice in your head canons and some of your drabbles that Pitcairn is afraid what Davenport might do if he found out about Pitcairn and Elle so can I see a drabble where John goes and asks permission from his commanding officer to court Elle Mallow."**

* * *

**The Patriarch  
**

John stood outside the office of Commander Davenport, shaking like a new born lamb. He swallowed hard, gathering up every fibre of his courage to knock on the front door. Every time he raised his fist, he stopped himself. It was not out of fear of his life. No, John had escaped Death's jaws far too often to be afraid of what Commander Davenport might do. It was the fear of a possible outcome – that he would need to go back and tell Eleanor Mallow that her father had refused to give John permission to court her. It had been her idea for him to go and ask her father, as any proper man should. John was inclined to agree. The secrecy of their relationship was becoming too much to bear. For the past four months, they had been meeting in secret when they were off duty for a day here, an hour or two there. Twice now he had had his wicked, wanton way with her in a deserted alleyway. Their encounters were always hasty and heated, neither bothering to remove their clothing rather only rearranging them. He longed to be able to take her to his quarters without fear of who would see them.

And so it was that he was standing outside Matthew Davenport's office, trying and failing to gather up his strength. He was being foolish, he knew that much. He had faced down Edward Braddock and the threats of the Gallows. He had stood in the firing range of a French Legion and did not so much as flinch. Now, he could not stop himself from shaking.

He sighed and took a second to calm his scattered nerves before giving the wood a firm rap with his knuckles.

"Enter."

John pushed the door open and was met with the sight of Commander Davenport sitting at his desk, doing a spot of paperwork. Matthew Davenport was a decorated officer, far more so that John himself. The older man looked up and surprise spread across his face. Eleanor had inherited very little from her father and John always marvelled at how little she looked like him. Eleanor's eyes were dark, darker than the rum the occasional rum John liked to indulged in, whereas Matthew's eyes are grey. Her father was pale – his colouring traditional British like John whereas Elle had a tanned, almost exotic look to her.

"John?"

The Scot watched from the door frame. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything but I'd very much like a moment of your time sir."

"Of course, Come in, come in." Commander Davenport motioned him in with a wave of his hand. John stepped in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He strode into the room, trying to ignore the tremor in his legs. "Do you want a drink John?" asked the commander as the John sank into the overstuffed chair opposite Davenport's desk.

John nodded. Yes, a glass of liquid courage was exactly what he needed. "Aye sir, I wouldn't say no."

Commander Davenport reached into his desk and brought out two glass tumblers. John watched as the older man poured out two equal glasses of amber liquid from a Scotch bottle. He recognised the vintage and wasn't the least bit surprised. The Commander could afford a few luxuries. Commander Davenport handed the glass over. "Cheers."

"So." Davenport sat back down at his desk, swirling the Scotch around in his glass. "What brings you here John?"

John took a gulp of his scotch before answering. "Your daughter Eleanor sir," he replied, taking care not to use her nickname in front of him.

Davenport's dark eyebrows raised behind the glass tumbler. "Yes, what about her? Is she performing well?"

_Yes. In more ways than one sir. _"Aye. She far exceeds my expectations. She'll make a fine officer. But her military performance is not why I am here," John replied, unable to stop the pride from creeping into his tone.

Commander Davenport shifted in his chair and took another sip of his scotch. "Well then, out with it John." His tone had changed from affable to clipped in seconds. John was confident that Commander Davenport could smell fear, like a bloodhound.

John took a deep breath. "Well sir, I'm here because I've become very attached to your daughter."

Grey eyes narrowed at the Scot and John felt himself break out into a cold sweat almost immediately. His hand, that gripped the glass tumbler, suddenly felt cold and clammy. John tightened his grip in fear of it slipping between his hands.

"And I suppose you are here to ask my permission to court her correct?" Commander Davenport asked, upfront and direct as always.

John nodded, not trusting his own voice to speak. For a brief moment, he was seized with the urge to throw his glass down and run from the room while he still had legs. "Yes sir," he finally answered and he was proud that he kept his voice steady.

A deafening silence descended upon the room and for a few moments, John sat waiting as his pulse rate roared in his eardrums.

Finally, Davenport answered. "I must say you took your time John."

John nearly fell off his chair in utterly shock. "Sir?"

The older officer gave the younger officer a smirk. "Do not play ignorant. I've seen the way you look at her. I may be getting old but I'm not a fool," he replied, his grey eyes unreadable. "But please, continue. Choose your next words with extreme care. Remember, I have no patience for men who waste my time."

John swallowed hard again. How on Gods name was he to sum up everything he felt for her in a few words. "Sir, I could lie to you and say that she is the bonniest, sweetest girl I've ever met but that would be a dire lie. Eleanor is the strongest, most tenacious woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She's stubborn, hot-headed and she drives me to the brink of madness every day. But I have never enamoured by a woman before and I'd very much like your permission to court her."

"And should I refuse?"

John looked his commanding officer straight in the eyes. "With all due respect sir, I would not care. I'd still pursue her, with or without your blessing."

Davenport said nothing for a moment. He sat simply absorbing the words. "I'll allow it. But let me be clear. I have had officers hung before and I have no problem doing it to you. If you break my daughter's heart or hurt her in any way, shape or form, I will march you to the Gallows and put the noose around your neck myself." Davenport levelled his eyes onto the Scot, pinning him to the chair with his stony eyed gaze. John swallowed hard. "Am I understood, Captain?" he asked, the warning in his tone unmistakable.

Intense relief washed over him, coupled with joy. "Yes sir." He let out a trembling breath and quickly downed the rest of his drink, eager to escape the commander. Davenport did the same, swallowing down the remainder of his own scotch before he stood up and retrieved to the John's glass. "Thank you sir," John said, getting up from the overstuffed chair armchair. He needed to get out and find Elle before Commander Davenport changed his mind. "Permission to leave sir," he asked.

The commander nodded. "Granted. I suppose you're going off to find Eleanor?"

He felt heat rise up his neck. "I am sir", he replied as Davenport walked him to the door. The older man clapped his hand on John's shoulder a little harder than was necessary.

"I do not have to tell you that she's a handful but I'm sure that doesn't put you off."

"No sir, I like the challenge."

Commandeer Davenport gave a smile and opened the door for John. "I appreciate you coming here and being honest with me Captain. I like honesty in my soldiers." The older officer then gave John a gentle shove. "Now go and see my daughter. She'll be hiding around the corner waiting for you anyway."

"Thank you sir."

"Goodnight Captain." And the heavy oak door shut behind him with a click. John slumped against it and wiped the sweat from his brow. God in heaven, Commander Davenport was intimidating. But the man had finally given his blessing and the knowledge made John's heart flip in his chest. No longer would he need to hide his affections for her, and vice versa. He straightened up, adjusted his hat the marched off to through the barracks to find Elle.

However he need not have bothered for the young redcoat was waiting outside his quarters. She was leaning against the wall casually, her arms folded across her chest.

She gave a half smile as he approached. "Well, you're alive. That's a good sign. So what did my father have to say?"

John did not respond verbally. Instead, he marched up to her, pressed her hard against the brickwork and slanted his mouth across hers in a consuming kiss. The redcoat responded by kissing him with a thoroughness that left his head spinning. He could focus on nothing but her skilful mouth, and he let out a groan that would have been obscene had he even been listening. "So it's a yes then?" she asked when he broke away. He rested his forehead against hers, feeling her hot breath against his face.

"He threatened me with the Gallows but other than that, he was grand about it."

"Hmmm, good." Her hands slid upwards, playing with the tassels on his shoulderpads "We should celebrate."

"What do you propose?"

She didn't answer and she didn't need to. John recognised that dark, hungry look in her eyes and knew it was likely reflected in his own. Her clever little hands gave him a squeeze and she slipped out from against him, going towards the door of his quarters wearing a sultry smile. "Come hither John. And that's a direct order," she demanded, even though she was three ranks lower than he was.

It was an order he was more than happy to follow


End file.
